Disintegrating Hearts
by Mahou Shoujo Lyrical Magica
Summary: In which Homura doesn't deserve to cry for herself. Homura x ?, with the ever present feelings of Homura x Godoka.


Crack Ahoy! This story came to me in a dream (Twilight-like much? *shudders*), so please take that for an excuse why it may be crack-y. Hopefully someone enjoys it though. Please leave a review regardless. I will need to go write some _happy_ Homura x Madoka now as a pallet cleanser.

* * *

She kisses him for the first time and she feels sick. So sick that she wants to vomit. So sick that she _does_ vomit. She spills the content of her breakfast all over her black shoes and she stares down at it with disgust. Homura feels pathetic and she hates herself more than she's ever hated herself before. She wants to die, but first she wants to run. She doesn't bother to explain as she wisks pass the confused man who she had only moments ago kissed passionately. She retreats into the bathroom to brush her teeth and locks the door behind her. When she emerges she expects the young man to be gone, but to her surprise he is still there, sitting on her couch watching her rarely used television.

Again she curses herself and wishes she could die spontaneously where she stood. Her legs are weak and her arms are quivering as she walks over to the couch and picks up the remote. Numbly she turns off the television and escorts the man to the front door of her apartment.

"Homura - " he begins, but she slams the door in his face.

She does not cry.

* * *

She sees him again exactly four days later. She believes he was waiting for her, there at the park were he first remembered them meeting years ago. She considers leaving, on retreating back to her apartment, but as her fingers wrap around a piece of her signature red ribbon in her pocket that had long ago tattered, her resolve steeled and she continued on her way. She doesn't acknowledge him when he falls into stride behind her or even when he is standing right next to her as she ties the red ribbon to the old gnarled tree that she spent a spring under so many years ago with her dearest, best friend.

Homura is symbolically returning the gift. She no longer deserves it. Maybe one day she'll come back and get it, but not today.

Her eyes never meet his, though he does his best to remedy this. "What is wrong with you?" he is getting frustrated now, she can tell. It is time to leave, having done what she came to the park to do. She doesn't speak to him even as he follows her and repeats her name and asks again "What's wrong with you?" "Tell me Homura!" "You're so weird." "Fine, don't talk." He was growing more hostile by the minute and Homura was afraid she would have to subdue him before she made it to the safety of her apartment. When he grabs her wrist and turns her around to face him forcefully she slaps him hard across the face, so hard that tears appear in the man's brown eyes as he gingerly cups his stinging cheek.

Had she been in a good humor she might would have smiled or even laughed when his cheeks puffed out with indignation and his eyes blazed with fury. "**_Fine!_** Have it your way." His hiss sounds more like a pathetic whine, truly revealing his relatively young age and his childishness as he walks away from her and probably returns home. Where he rightfully belongs.

Satisfied, but not happy, Homura walks to her own place of living - never home.

She does not cry.

* * *

She's not sure why he appears before her the next day, standing outside her door like a lost puppy. She isn't sure why his hands are in his pockets or why his head is down and his eyes downcast as he apologizes profusely. She wants to tell him he did nothing wrong, but doesn't. She remains silent and stoic all the while knowing it is she who was in the wrong. She is the one who is disgusting and despicable and _weird_ and -

And he makes his way inside the small apartment. For the first time she notices he has flowers in his hands. A small bundle of carnations that was likely inexpensive, something a college student like him could easily afford. He tries to hand them to her but she refuses to take them. Her hands remain glued to her sides and he looks rejected.

With a sigh he collapses onto the familiar couch and buries his head in his hands. His voice muffled, he speaks to her, "I don't know why I can't stop thinking about you," he says candidly. "I try, and I try, and I try but I can't. I've always thought about you, Homura. Ever since I was little. Tell me you feel the same way."

And Homura understands him and in that fleeting moment understands herself. They both represent something lost to one another. To him she is a connection to an untouchable subconscious memory that he cannot place no matter how hard he tries or wants to. To her he is a piece of what she loved and lost and can never get back.

"I do not love you Tatsuya Kaname," she tells the twenty year old sternly, and she speaks the truth. She's only loved one person ever in her life, and that person was gone. _But there is a part of that person right before you, _her mind traitorously whispers and she wants to smack herself. She feels so disgusted with herself and vile. Tatsuya is good. He is good like his sister of whom he'll never remember. He doesn't need to be tainted for Homura's own gratification.

"You are worried you'll hurt me?" Tatsuya pulls her out from her thoughts with his query. With the lack of a better explanation Homura nods slowly. She sees Tatsuya's eyes hardened before he stands up tall to his full height. He towers over her now. "You won't." He tells her with confidence, reaching out he takes her hand and she does not pull away. She enjoys the his warmth, in a way. "You are too kind Homura. I know people think you are weird and maybe you are a bit of a loner but I've known you all my life and deep down you are one of the most caring, kindest people I've ever known." He doesn't catch her sour smile at his words. _If only he remembered Madoka_, she thinks to herself, then he would never call her kind or caring. She was a failure and a monster and a user. In her own way she had used Madoka to search for her own selfish happiness and now her mind was tempting her to use Tatsuya again to achieve something close to peace, but she wouldn't allow herself the pleasure.

She is about ready to tell him to leave when he closes the distance between them with his lips. His kiss is soft and unsure, but passion lies bubbling underneath the surface that she could practically feel coming off in waves.

She doesn't let her lips linger, she pulls away and ignores the feeling of something other than sorrow in her being. She's always been so selfish, but not anymore. She won't be selfish anymore.

Seeing his upcoming defeat in her violet eyes Tatsuya asks, visibly deflated now, "If you want me to go I will go. Do you want me to go?" biting his lip he adds, "I won't come back if you do."

Homura places a small hand on his shoulder and squeezes slightly, it is the only source of comfort he will receive from her. Withdrawing she opens the door to her apartment and gestures outside to him. "Have a good life Tatsuya Kaname. You deserve it and the world."

Solemnly he nods before leaving, his pride and heart hurt and he makes his exit quick and disappears down the stairs never to return again.

"Why did you do that Homura Akemi?" a small white creature asked. He had been lounging unseen by Tatsuya on the arm of the sofa watching the exchange with unblinking red eyes.

"Why'd I do what?" Homura asked irritably. She missed Mami and Kyouko for numerous reasons. Kyouko had died fighting Wraiths some years ago and ever since Mami's death eight months ago Kyubey had been spending more and more time by the remaining Magical Girl's side. How she hated him.

"Why did you turn him away? I understand you did not 'feel' what you humans describe as love for him, but you felt something. Why not utilize his resources and contract him as a mate to start a family and have some semblance of what you consider a normal life? It is all very fascinating to me that you refused him. It's as if you are a glutton for punishment. Are you?"

Homura opens her mouth to respond, but quickly closes it. She doesn't owe the Incubator an explanation. Without another word she leaves the living room and retreats into her bedroom closing the door behind her hoping Kyubey takes the hint.

She falls onto her unmade bed and for the first time in what feels like years, and very well could have been, cries. She cries for the boy whose heart she's broken and she cries for the Goddess who watches over her and continually tries to give her happiness, happiness Homura will never accept them. This is her self-inflicted punishment for failing Madoka so many times. She earned this fate. But, the one person Homura doesn't cry for is herself.

She knows that she doesn't deserve her own tears.


End file.
